Rescue
by Wordsplat
Summary: The Avengers rescued a lot of children over the years, but only one ever rescued them. Oneshot, TonyxSteve, superfamily


The Avengers saved everyone they could. Big and small, young and old, Midgardian, Asgardian, Atlantian, what have you. They were superheroes, it was kind of in the job description. They'd saved a lot of people in their three years and counting of superhero-dom, and plenty of them had been kids. It was a good feeling, of course, but it wasn't exactly a new experience at this point.

At least, it wasn't until one of them, at just four years old, crawled up a vertical wall.

It was at that point that the situation became a little stranger, though to be fair, the Avengers were used to strange. They barely batted an eyelash, just laughed about 'spider-kid' and went about retrieving the toddler before his powers failed him.

The social worker didn't take it quite as well.

She was clearly put off by the child, something that Steve noticed and didn't much appreciate. When the social worker, Amy, told them she'd be taking him to a temporary home until they could find his parents, Steve began to wring his hands. Tony, noticing this, sighed and pulled Steve aside.

They had a brief but intense chat, and Steve shared his concerns about the child landing in a bad home. Tony pointed out they'd placed kids in temp care before, that there was always that chance, but Steve insisted that they had a responsibility to this one. This child had powers, powers most people wouldn't understand and some might even fear him for, but the Avengers understood that better than anyone. Steve quietly pointed out the social worker, already shying away, already unwilling to hold the toddler for any length of time.

"What if he grows up knowing nothing but fear? How do you think that affects a child?"

"Steve, they're not gonna run screaming terrified just cause he can climb walls, okay? Frankly, I'm kind of jealous, that looks cool as hell-"

"Yes, Tony, but you're _you," _Steve sighed with just a hint of fondness, bouncing the toddler lightly to keep him entertained, "You think sentient toasters are cool."

"Blasphemy!" Tony exclaimed in mock shock, "You _love_ Waldo, and when we can find the bastard, you know he makes like the best toast ever-"

"Tony," Steve shot him a look, not to be deterred, "That's not my point."

"Look, I get it, really," Tony admitted, softening a bit when he caught the little guy's wide brown eyes, "And I'm not saying you're wrong. We should probably check up on him every couple years, see how the powers are working out. Hell, maybe he can be an Avenger someday, who knows. But that's not what you're _really_ thinking, is it?"

"Well…" Steve ducked his head a bit. He hadn't outright asked, but… "I was just thinking maybe-"

"No. Nope, no way, no chance, nada."

"You don't even know what I'm going to say-"

"Oh yes I do," Tony steamrolled right over him, "I've known you how long now? Please. I know you better than anyone, Captain Do-Good. You want _us _to house the brat while we find his relatives, don't you?"

"Weeeell…" Steve drew it out, then blurted, "But come on Tony, who could better understand what he's going through than-"

"I am _not_ a babysitter," Tony huffed, "Who knows how long it would take to find the kid's family? We don't even know his name; what if it takes _months? _That's like actually having a kid! And I'd have to baby proof things and then I wouldn't be able to get into my cabinets and that's really just so much more trouble than it's worth-"

"If that's your only worry we can just skip the cabinet locks, they're not_ that_ important, there weren't any when I was growing up-"

"But then the kid'll open the cabinets and die!" Tony groaned.

"I really don't think that's why people childproof their cabinets, Tony."

"All I'm saying is that the temp home is just that; temporary. It doesn't need to be perfect, I'm sure they'll find his relatives soon."

"But who knows how long that will take?" Steve insisted, "And in the meantime, he grows up with foster parents who ignore or mistreat him because they don't know how to handle him?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I miss the part where_ you_ learned how to take care of kids? Newsflash, most new parents don't know how to handle kids. It's kind of a learning experience."

"We've fought villains from bad homes before, Tony. Almost on a monthly basis. These people are so angry at the world they go and engineer powers for themselves to hurt people. He's already in possession of powers; what if he grows up angry and hurt and confused, and he lashes out?" Steve turned to look at the toddler in his arms, running a thumb across the boy's cheek, "Could you imagine, twenty years down the line, running into some supervillain with spider-powers, and knowing it was our fault because we'd failed this little boy?"

It was pretty hard to say no to Captain America normally; it was impossible while he was bouncing a toddler.

"God, you suck so bad," Tony whined, "So, so bad."

"Did you hear that, buddy?" Steve smiled brightly, cooing at the boy, "You're going to stay with us a little while, that okay by you?"

He giggled, grabbing at Steve's nose with his chubby little hands, and that was that.

Steve and Tony returned to the group, and Tony reluctantly sighed before cutting in and running a stream of legal mumbo-jumbo at the social worker. The gist of it was that as New York's resident super-people, they would be most equipped to take care of the boy until his family was found. Or, in the event they weren't, that another suitable-and _loving, _Steve stressed-family could be found to take care of him.

If the others were opposed they didn't say anything, though to be fair, Tony did own Stark Tower and was kind of the final say on those sorts of things. The social worker seemed more than happy to let them take the boy off her hands. Tony caught Steve making the I-disapprove-of-your-decisions-in-life face, but quickly pulled the Captain away before the social worker noticed. Tony then called Happy, since flying back while carrying a toddler was probably considered endangerment and he really didn't need more lawsuits. If Happy was surprised that they had acquired a toddler, he didn't mention it.

Once in private, the Avengers had a bit of a longer talk about the whole thing, and came to the basically unanimous decision that their Captain had made the right call. "Basically", because though Tony agreed, it was mostly because Steve had elbowed him when he hadn't. They changed out of battle clothes and showered up, then, with the little boy Clint had dubbed Spider-Kid all but glued to Steve's hip, they went shopping.

Steve was clearly the favorite, though the others all proved more than capable of handling him-after handling dangerous, deadly objects often enough, keeping a toddler upright really wasn't that much of a challenge. They tracked down a stroller together-some top of the line thing Tony insisted on, because if he was going to be taking care of "some brat" he might as well "do it in style". After that they split up, Steve and Tony hunted down furniture and other practicalities, Natasha and Bruce bought toddler clothes, while Clint and Thor were given toy buying duty since they weren't too far removed from childhood themselves. Coulson eventually met up with them in the shopping mall, holding bags of diapers and baby food, raising an eyebrow.

"Unless, of course, any of you remembered that the living being you're carting around eats different foods than you and makes an inordinate amount of waste?"

They hadn't.

It was only two days before Spider-Kid's identity was uncovered; his name was Peter Parker. His parents weren't in the picture, and his only other living family had been the aunt and uncle that had died in the fire. He stayed with the Avengers another month and a half before they finally managed to convince Steve to approve of a family, a young couple unable to conceive a child of their own.

It was barely a week before Peter was returned to Avengers Tower.

They said Peter was a wonderful boy, but that they were unable to give him the care he needed. Thor was heartbroken for Peter, and absolutely could not understand. The spider-child was sweet and loving and hardly ever cried, he questioned, why would anyone return him?

The others understood a bit more.

They had all been, at some point or another, rejected for the very things that made them great. They had learned to live with it, learned to understand themselves and their abilities, and, in turn, their limitations and their crazy, but that came with time. Peter was young yet, and he didn't know that most parents weren't equipped to chase him up walls, or get him down safely from the ceiling, or unwrap themselves from web-cocoons.

On the other hand, there wasn't much Peter could do to truly faze the Avengers; strange and often dangerous was pretty much their norm. Not to mention, two of their members could fly, so ceilings were an easier reach. They tried again and again to find him a home, another four times to be precise, though it took ridiculous lengths to get Steve to sign off on these potential families. In the end, though, it was pointless; no one was able to handle Peter for more than two weeks.

In the meantime, without anyone ever fully realizing it or the complications that would ensue, Peter became one of their own. As the one that had advocated for him, Steve fell into a parental role pretty quickly. For the first week or so Peter was deathly quiet, and pretty much glued to Steve. He was old enough that he remembered his aunt and uncle and wanted to know where they were, which made the first few weeks pretty rough, but he'd already been shifted once before-from his parents to his aunt and uncle-so he seemed to accept it.

Over time, he asked less and less, and the Avengers were able to bring him out of his shell. Once they got him comfortable with them, he was inquisitive and talkative, always poking or prodding at something or another-after the fourth time in one morning Peter pulled out every single pot and pan in the house to bang on, they were forced to buy the dreaded cupboard locks Tony so despised.

Unfortunately, they forgot to inform Tony.

After Tony tugged and fiddled and messed with his cupboard for almost fifteen minutes, he declared it satanic and disappeared into his lab, re-emerging with a chainsaw. Luckily, Steve caught sight of him and explained that a, they'd put childlocks on the cupboards, and b, a chainsaw is never the answer to anything ever.

Tony argued point b for a while with a long, nonsensical hypothetical situation that had something to do with a zombie apocalypse, before eventually shouting gibberish at Steve and retreating into his lab. He didn't emerge for seventeen hours, at which point he came out bearing electronic locks that JARVIS could control remotely, keeping Peter out and Tony in. It was, of course, totally accidental that it screeched satanic curses at Steve whenever he touched it.

Right.

Apart from a rocky beginning, dealing with the loss of his aunt and uncle and the after-shock of having been in a fire and the nightmares that came with it, Peter settled quite quickly into life with the Avengers. He hated being separated from them, and always threw a fit when they told him he'd been adopted again.

Bruce warmed up to Peter easily, but from a distance. He was very, very cautious about interacting with the breakable young child. He would hold him if necessary, but avoided it if possible. Peter and Bruce weren't particularly close, mostly since children at that age tended to bond through physical interactions, of which theirs were limited, but Bruce was always around though and Pete was as comfortable with him as the others.

Despite his distance, Bruce cared very much about the boy's well-being. He had to buy new bookshelves for all the pediatric health books he bought in the first couple weeks, immersing himself in everything one could possibly need to know to care for a young child. After becoming better versed in children's health than most pediatricians, Bruce moved on to cookbooks. He was already the Tower chef, better than all the other Avengers combined, and he expanded his culinary arts into healthy and delicious kid's meals that Pete devoured with gusto.

Clint and Peter were buddies from day one, bonding over their shared love of heights and mischief. Clint was Peter's "Hawky"; the phrase came from a failed attempt to mimic Tony calling Clint "Hawkass", and Tony was lucky it came out "Hawky" or Steve might have skinned him alive for teaching the boy his first swear.

Clint fell into a big brotherly sort of role with Spider-Kid, as he still called him, and was always the one to chase Peter down from the ceiling before Steve had an aneurism. He taught Peter how to throw his food more accurately, how to use his wall-climbing to scare the living hell out of Tony, and how to say phrases like 'I do what I want' and 'make me, sucker'. They came out sounding something like 'do want' and 'may me' with Peter's limited vocabulary, but Steve sent Clint to the naughty corner for that one anyway.

Thor was always in and out of the Tower, away in Asgard most of the time and off visiting Jane when he was on Midgard, so he was Peter's cheerful uncle who tossed him the highest, played chase-me games the longest, and brought the best presents every time he came to visit. Thor loved Peter dearly, declaring the "Midgardian Spider Child" to be the "kindest and most endearing young warrior in all the realms". Thor colored him a crayon certificate saying as much, and Peter had proudly hung it up in his room.

Natasha was also in and out a bit, since she was still active within SHIELD and when she was home she tended to disappear to her room, but when she was around she adored Peter as much as any of them. She never babied him though; pigs would fly before they heard her use a baby voice. She spoke to him in the same crisp, straight-forward way she did with everyone else, though there was a gentle warmth to her voice that only Peter seemed to warrant. She was his "Annasha", a botched attempt at the phrase "Aunt Natasha", and she colored with him and taught him big grown up words and always treated him like the smart, capable person he was.

Steve was a natural with all things children. He took fantastic care of Peter, who in turn adored him. Steve was strict but fair, and would go to the ends of the earth for the boy. Even when Peter was playing with the others, Steve was always hovering nearby, ready if needed. He didn't do everything on his own, of course; the others were all more than happy to help and they had a rotating care schedule for most things, but there was no real question that he filled one parental role.

What surprised absolutely everyone was who filled the other.

Tony and Peter got along better than anyone. Peter was a very intelligent, curious kid, and Tony adored that about him. Peter always wanted to be in Tony's workshop, wanted to watch him build and play the "toys" Tony played with. Tony obliged, and since Steve was always down there with him anyway, reading or sketching or chatting away, the dynamic just shifted a bit to him keeping an eye out for Peter as well.

What they truly bonded over, however, was books. Peter was absolutely batshit crazy about books, more so than any other toy he'd ever possessed. He loved them, and it was the one thing he would beg for more of at every opportunity. For a while he stacked them in piles in his room, running his fingers over their spines before picking one out.

Though Peter liked his piles, eventually there were just too many, and Tony constructed him a little white book shelf. When Peter refused to put his books in it, Tony, Steve, and Peter spent one afternoon painting little pictures of spiders and the Avengers and scenes from Peter's favorite stories. Almost immediately after it dried, without saying a word, Peter toddled over to his book stacks and started moving them to the shelf.

So Tony was all over the reading thing, more than happy to foster Peter's obvious intelligence. It didn't surprise anyone that Tony bought Peter books by the dozen, with or without prompting from Peter himself. What did surprise them, however, was Tony's unending patience when it came to reading with Peter.

Tony would abandon the workshop in the middle of a project if Peter wanted to read, and the two would sit in the reading corner of Pete's room or on the rec room couch or even just on the floor somewhere and read for ages_. _About a month or so after they found him, Tony caught Peter flipping through one of his favorites, mouthing the words from memory as he turned the pages. After that, he'd set about teaching Peter in earnest, and the boy picked it up startlingly fast.

Tony, proud as hell, told anyone who would listen; Dr. Doom had to admit it was quite impressive.

Tony was always first to appear when Peter called, first to abandon whatever he was doing for Peter's whims. Tony was, in Peter's mind, an unconditional. No matter what Peter said or did or played with when he shouldn't have, Tony never seemed to get mad or ignore him like some of his foster parents had when he'd gotten too loud or out of control. When Peter did something that was wrong or dangerous, Tony would just scoop him up into a big hug, tell him he was glad Peter was safe, but that he was going to have to be a big boy and own up to Steve about it.

It was three months before Steve finally gave in, admitting to himself what he'd wanted from the beginning.

"Tony?" Steve entered Tony's workshop, Tony's favorite sandwich and a very large cup of coffee in hand.

"Oh god," Tony paled, looking up, "That's way more caffeine than you let me drink. What happened? Is Pete okay?"

Tony was already up and out of his chair, brushing past Steve, who caught him by the arm. Steve smiled to himself; Tony liked to pretend he could care less about kids or Peter, but he had more of a soft spot for the boy than any of them.

"Peter's fine," Steve reassured his friend, pressing the coffee into his hand, "Can't I just do something nice every once in a while?"

"You're always nice," Tony chuckled, "Extra-caffeine-nice just usually involves bad news."

"Or favors," Steve cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Or favors," Tony conceded. Then he paused, realizing, "Oh. You want a favor? Name it."

"It's a big favor, Tony," Steve bit his lip, "Don't agree so quickly. You can have time to think about it, too, if you want, it's not necessarily immediate-"

"Steve," Tony rolled his eyes, "Whatever you want, it's yours."

"I'm serious, you're going to want to think about this-"

"Do you want to kill me?"

"What? No!"

"Any of our friends?"

"Of course not, what are you-"

"Then just tell me already so I can say yes."

"If you're not going to take me seriously, I'm taking back the coffee," Steve threatened jokingly.

"No, mine," Tony made a hissing noise not unlike a cat.

"What if that was the favor?" Steve teased.

"You said you didn't want to kill me!" Tony exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger.

"Caffeine deprivation isn't death," Steve chuckled.

"But it kills my soooul, Steeeve," Tony whined a complaint.

"You know, that's the other thing I came down for," Steve added thoughtfully, taking his usual seat on the couch across from Tony, "You've upped your caffeine intake these past few days, and you look pretty stressed. I know you're on bath duty this week, but if you've got a big project or something, I can take over-"

"No, no, I like bathtime. And it's not stress," Tony waved him off, trying and failing to come off as casual. It might pass to someone else's eye, but Steve knew Tony better than anyone, almost better than he knew himself, "It's more of a, well, substitute type thing. Turns out, it's really hard to quit drinking cold turkey."

"You quit drinking?" Steve's eyes went wide, and he was up in a flash, pulling Tony into a hug, "That's _great_, Tony!"

"Eesh," Tony complained, but a small smile was fighting it's way to his lips, "If I'd have known you'd react like this, I would've stopped sooner."

"Tony, really," Steve released Tony, but left his hands on his friend's shoulders, "That's wonderful. I'm so proud of you."

"Yeah, well," Tony gave in to a lop-sided smile, "I'm trying, anyway."

"What convinced you?"

"I, uh…well," Tony cleared his throat, running an aggravated hand through his hair, "No, no, don't give me that look. I'm fine. I just...the other day, Pete got out of bed and came looking for me, and I'd had a glass or two…he walked up, and all I could think of was my old man, shoving a glass into my hand, telling me it would put hair on my chest."

"Tony, you would _never-"_

"I'm glad you believe that. But this is still something I need to do," Tony shook his head, muttering into his coffee, "Shitty dads raise shitty kids, and all."

"Oh, Tony…"

Steve wasn't entirely sure how to respond. There was a part of him, a very prominent part, that was exuberant that Tony seemed to be thinking about Peter as a long term part of their lives, consciously or not. Steve wanted that; there were nights he wanted it so badly he couldn't sleep. He would toss and turn and think of Tony, of Peter, of having both of them the way he wanted to, as a real family. He'd seen too many women floating in and out of the Tower to delude himself into thinking he would ever be able to be with Tony the way he wanted to be, but Peter…

Steve loved Peter, and so did Tony. Maybe he and Tony would never be romantic, but that didn't mean they couldn't raise Peter together, couldn't still provide the wonderful, loving home that Peter deserved. This was the first real sign that Tony might perhaps want that too.

"I'm here to help, you know," Steve finally gave Tony's shoulders a squeeze, before releasing him, "Anything you need."

"I thought you were the one that needed the favor here?" Tony pointed out. It was clearly a diversion, but Steve let it slide.

"I do," Steve cleared his throat, bracing himself, then, "And what you just said, about fathers? Well, the thing is, you're not a shitty father, Tony, you're so far from that. You're incredible with Peter, Lord knows you have the patience of a saint with him, and he utterly adores you-"

"But I'm not his father, am I?" Tony's mouth curled just a touch, in a look that might have almost been disappointment, and Steve pushed his advantage.

"But that's what I'm trying to say, is that…you could be."

Silence hung heavy in the air, and Tony stared at Steve incredulously. Might as well go for broke;

"We could be."

"Be…his fathers?" though Tony had regained his voice, it was incredulous, and with just a hint of a squeak on the last word.

"I don't mean to, to proposition you," Steve flushed, quickly backtracking. Tony's wide eyes were not exactly comforting him, "Not, like that. I just mean. Raising Peter, together. You know, officially."

"Adopt," and Tony definitely choked a bit on the word.

"Well, yes," Steve rubbed the back of his neck, which was heated with embarrassment, "It sounds silly, now, I mean, it doesn't have to be you and me, it's just, we already sort of do, not to discount the others, because of course they're a great help and they love him, but we're kind of the parental figures, so to speak, and I just, I thought we might make it, you know, sort of…official."

"You want to adopt Peter. With…_me_."

"Like I said, it doesn't necessarily have to be _us, _I just, we already act like his parents, but if that makes you uncomfortable I can adopt him myself I suppose but it's your Tower so it would be sort of rude to just adopt a child without telling you and you're so great with him and he just looks up to you so much and I think it might really mean a lot to him and I-"

"Shh, no, you're adorable, stop talking," Tony shushed him, seeming to finally regain his wits. A wide grin began to spread across his face, "No takebacks."

"Tony, wha-?"

"I said, no takebacks. JARVIS, email Pepper to draw up the paperwork for that."

"Yes, sir."

Was it just Steve, or did JARVIS sound immensely amused?

"Tony, what do you mean no takebacks?"

"It means that when you come to your senses and realize what a horrible, horrible mistake you've made by basically shackling yourself to me for the next fourteen plus years, you can't take it back."

"I wasn't going to take it back, Tony, I was being serious, I think you'll make a wonderful father-"

"Tell me that in five years when you realize I'm obnoxious and self-centered and not the kind of guy you want to spend time with."

"I'm sorry, 'realize'? We spent the first six months of being on a team screaming at each other, I think I'm aware of your faults."

"You _think _you are. But then you're stuck with me, and it turns out…you don't want to be."

Tony was shifting uncomfortably, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. Steve knew exactly what Tony was thinking; Pepper. The woman had been by his side for so long, thought she'd known him so well. Then they'd started something romantic, and she discovered it wasn't what she wanted. That Tony wasn't what she wanted.

Steve, on the other hand, knew exactly what he wanted, even if it was clear Tony didn't have a clue.

"God you're oblivious, aren't you?"

"What?"

"Nothing," Steve cleared his throat, mortified that he'd actually said that out loud, "Uh, I meant to say, I'm not going to get sick of you. And neither will Peter. He adores you. Loudly."

"Yeah," Tony chuckled, "If we really do get to keep him around, we need to work on volume control."

Within days, they were signing papers. No one was much surprised when they shared the news, except Peter, who happily screamed bloody murder and tackled their knees. For the first month or so, the dynamics of their little family stayed exactly as it always had.

Then, all in one night, everything shifted.

JARVIS reported that Peter was having a nightmare. This wasn't a particularly uncommon occurrence, and since Steve was on nightmare duty, it was Steve who went to Peter's room to try and help him get back to sleep. Tony wandered in moments later, claiming he couldn't sleep either, though they both knew full well Tony was just worried.

"Oh Pete," Tony murmured, joining Steve on Peter's bed, rubbing circles on the boy's back, "What's wrong, buddy?"

Peter tried to say something, but ended up blubbering and sniffling and soon enough full on crying again.

"Hey, hey, shh, it's okay, you don't have to talk about it," Tony pulled the boy into his arms, still murmuring reassurances.

"Please don't go, daddy, please," Peter sobbed, throwing his arms around Tony's neck.

Steve didn't miss the way Tony's shoulders stiffened, and he closed his eyes in a wince.

"I'm so sorry, Pete, I…your dad, he-"

"No, daddy, _you," _Pete sniffled into Tony's shoulder.

Tony's eyes went wide. He met Steve's gaze over Peter's head, and Steve could see clearly the panic mingled with joy. He gave a reassuring smile, and Tony let out a puff of air, something close to a laugh.

"I'm not going anywhere, Peter," Tony hugged the boy tighter, gesturing with his head in Steve's direction, "Pops over there isn't either."

Tony reached out a hand to pull Steve into their little group hug, and Steve couldn't ever remember his heart feeling so warm and happy and ready to burst. They held Peter, their _son, _until his sobs quieted and he was able to fall back to sleep. Steve tucked him back under the covers, and Tony reached down to tuck a lock of dark hair behind his ear, watching Peter's peaceful face with troubled eyes.

Tony was caught in his own world, trying to remember a time his father had ever done anything like this for him. He tried to scrounge up some memory of comfort, but it was always Jarvis, the real Jarvis, that had come to soothe nightmares. He realized with a heavy heart that his father probably never held him like this, never looked at him like this...never cared for him like this. He didn't really notice he was crying, not until he felt a tear on his cheek. He rubbed at it with the back of his hand, quick to wipe away the evidence. It was silly to dwell on things like that now; it was long past.

He was startled when Steve pulled him into his arms.

"I'm sorry, Tony," Steve whispered, wary of waking the child sleeping nearby.

"It's not _your _fault," Tony whispered back, rubbing at his eyes again, "Just, you know, something in my eye. That's all."

Tony meant to be gruff, but his voice wavered.

"I'm still sorry, Tony," Steve's voice was strong with conviction, earnest, "I'm so sorry."

There was a long beat, and Tony let himself have this moment. A moment to dream, to delude himself, to enjoy his friend's comfort more than he should have. Then Steve released him to speak again.

"And I'm sorry for pushing you into…all of this. I knew about your father, about how sensitive this whole thing is and I still pushed you to let me keep Peter. This is your home, Tony, and I-"

"It's not-"

"-over-stepped my boundaries, pushed you to do something that clearly brings up bad memories and that was wrong of me, Tony-"

"Steve, I-"

"-I'm not sorry for Peter, because Lord knows that boy's the best thing that's ever happened to either of us, but I'm sorry for pushing you, please forgive me, I-"

"Forgive _you?_"

"Yes, I-"

"_Steve,"_ Tony insisted, silencing him, "I'm the hardest man on Earth to buy for. I have enough money to buy anything I want, and if I can't buy it, I can invent it. I honestly can't recall the last time anyone gave me something I wanted. _Ever. _I didn't know I wanted this...but, I do. It almost scares me how much I do. If you ever tell anyone I said that, of course, I'll deny it to the grave because I'm Tony Stark and Tony Stark isn't afraid of anything. But...you've given me a gift. I'm the one who should be thanking you, Steve."

Then Steve was rendered utterly speechless as Tony tentatively pressed his lips to Steve's. Steve was shocked for a brief moment before he leaned into him, softly returning the kiss.

"That," Steve flushed when they parted, "Is a heck of a thank you."


End file.
